


The Memory of Your Face

by ProxyOne



Series: Spinning In Daffodils [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Choking, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Introspection, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Rimming, Will & Hannibal slowly find their footing, slow steps, they have finally found each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProxyOne/pseuds/ProxyOne
Summary: Set directly after the events of All These Fictionary Tales and Because You Must.  Can be read as standalone, however.Will and Hannibal slowly work out where exactly they are with one another, and what they are to do next.Updating every Tuesday.





	1. Chapter 1

It took a long time for Will, and even longer for Hannibal, to finally believe that they were together again. In those first few hours after Chiyoh left they could do little more than gaze at each other in wonder, scarcely able to comprehend that finally, _finally_ , after so many years, through so much pain and heartache, they were there, with each other.

They didn't do much, that afternoon. They sat near each other, neither man willing to let the other go more than a few feet from them. There was light touches and soft smiles. There was cooking, because of _course_ there would be cooking, and they regaled one another with tales of the things they had done (Hannibal particularly enjoyed Will's tales of the reproduced wound man and the man filled with roses). But mostly what they did was enjoy each others presence.

After they ate they sat together on the sofa; not cuddled together, as one may have expected, but still sitting close enough that they could accidentally – or deliberately, as the case may occasionally have been – brush an arm along an arm, or a knee against a thigh. Gentle touches, touches that were fleeting and soft and light and left each man feeling as though he'd been struck by lightening with each and every one of them.

In this manner afternoon passed into evening, and evening into night. Midnight came and went, and still they were too enamoured of one another to leave their spot.

“What do we do now?” came the tentative question from Will. They were slumped back together, exhaustion on the verge of claiming them both. Their hands rested at their sides in mirrored pose, fingers reaching out to grasp but only brushing, never quite _touching_.

“For the first time in my life, I find myself without so much as the shadow of a plan,” answered Hannibal, “save not leaving your side.”

A shiver ran through Will at those words, and he turned his head to look at Hannibal. Sitting this close was something new, for them. Where they were now, heads resting against the back of the sofa, Will thought about how easily he would be able to kiss Hannibal's neck. It was a thought that had been circling his mind all day, but now it was well and truly forcing its way to the forefront. With some effort he forced it back, turning his head to look straight ahead again.

“I meant right now,” he answered after a minute more of quiet contemplation. “Though I'm also the same. Not leaving, I mean. Not ever again.”

He was aware of the way Hannibal tensed minutely, then relaxed again at his words. This was all uncharted territory, neither of them quite knowing how to navigate their way through. He'd never been nervous around Hannibal, not really. Not even when they first met, which when Will thought about it was odd. He hadn't noticed at the time though. Now, though? He wasn't nervous, not as such, but he was certainly...apprehensive wasn't quite the right word. Thrumming with nervous energy and anticipation was a more accurate description, and if Hannibal's uncharacteristic quietness was anything to go by, he was feeling much the same.

“If you wish to sleep,” Hannibal said softly, after a moment's more silence, “you may take my room. I will be content to rest out here.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” scoffed Will. “I know you would have picked a hotel with beds the size of small ships. We can share, can't we?”

As he spoke his bravado fell away, until by the last sentence his voice trailed off into unsure questioning. It occurred to him that all his clothes were back at his own hotel. He had nothing on him but the clothes he currently wore.

“We can,” said Hannibal, sounding apprehensive. Will turned to look at him. It was like a punch to the gut, and he didn't think he was going to be getting over actually having Hannibal in front of him for a long time. It was better than he thought it would be, he thought, as his eyes traced along Hannibal's profile. His hair was longer than it had been when last he'd seen him. He liked it. He wondered if he could be persuaded to grow it even longer. Will had the feeling it wouldn't be too difficult to persuade Hannibal to do much of anything.

“Are you okay with that?” he asked, carefully modulating his voice to be as non-threatening as possible, as though he were trying to coax a scared dog in from the cold. In many ways, it was an accurate description. Hannibal may not have realised it himself, but as far as Will was concerned, Hannibal _had_ been out in the cold for far too long. He watched as Hannibal visibly processed the question, then turned to look back at him.

“Yes,” he said firmly, looking Will directly in the eye. Will smiled as an odd mix of tension and relief spilled through him.

“Good.”

He stood, holding a hand out for Hannibal's. It felt odd, but pleasantly so, when Hannibal's hand gripped his. He had a brief flash to when their roles were reversed, back when he'd coughed up Abigail's ear and sat in a state of shock waiting for Hannibal to turn up. There was still bitterness behind that memory – there always would be – but he was surprised at how accepting he was of all that had transpired between them since then. They were finally, _finally,_ on an even footing.

It felt good.

He released Hannibal's hand once they were both standing.

“Do you mind if I have a shower before we go to bed? It's been a long day, and I'm sure you don't want the smell of an unwashed Will Graham in your bed.”

Butterflies thundered through him as the enormity of that particular phrase – _'in your bed'_ – hit him. It didn't inherently hold any promise, and yet it was laden with unspoken questions, fears, desires.

“I assure you, Will, your scent is as attractive to me as it ever was.”

The earnestness with which Hannibal spoke was too much for Will, and he let out a bark of laughter before he could suppress it. Hannibal smiled, his eyes twinkling, though if Will wasn't mistaken a faint dusting of blush pink was beginning to stain his cheeks. Will had to fight the urge to reach up and touch those cheekbones. If he did that now, there was no chance he was going to be able to stop, and he didn't think either of them were quite ready for that yet.

“Will you need a change of clothes? I'm assuming you don't have any secreted away on your person.”

“I don't, and yes, if you have something I would appreciate it.”

“Give me one moment.”

Hannibal bustled away, returning a few moments later with a pair of pyjamas in his hands. Will took them gratefully, unsurprised to find they were soft and clearly unworn.

“You _would_ travel with spare pyjamas, wouldn't you?” he teased. Hannibal merely smiled.

“I prefer to be prepared for certain eventualities.”

Will nodded with a smile, unsure exactly how to respond to that. He was certain that he wasn't imagining the undercurrent of suggestion to Hannibal's words, no matter how innocent he insisted upon looking.

They stood and looked at each other for a moment longer, before Hannibal cleared his throat and took half a step back.

“Your shower,” he said, his face softening into a look that could only be described as affectionate.

“Right,” replied Will, feeling suddenly stupid for forgetting, even though he still held the pyjamas in his hands. “I'll see you in a bit?”

“I'll be waiting.”

Will ignored the shiver that ran through him and turned to enter the bathroom. Already it felt odd to be away from Hannibal, the clicking of the door between them serving only to underline the separation. He ran the water, kicking away his dirty clothes with efficient speed, ducking under the hot water as soon as he was stripped off. He scrubbed his hands over his face in an effort to bring his body under control. Now that he could no longer see Hannibal, it felt like he'd imagined it all, like he'd drunk himself into another alcoholic stupor, one that he would very soon wake from and find that Hannibal was still dead, that he was still searching for a ghost. The feeling, as irrational as he knew it to be, was inducing all sorts of stress responses in him. His hands trembled. He breath came in raggedy gasps, and his knees felt weaker and weaker the longer he resisted the urge to just bolt out of the bathroom and find Hannibal again, to prove to himself that he was real.

He hurriedly scrubbed himself with the soap that had been left there, doubtless Hannibal's own, an observation that helped at least halt the stress in its tracks, even if it didn't seem to help it decline at all. The scent was so very Hannibal, and he closed his eyes, imagining that the hands soaping his skin were not his own. It was a thought he had to bring to a sudden halt, before it got out of hand. He rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. In the back of his mind it occurred to him that this had been the shortest, most rushed shower he had had in a long time.

He towelled himself off, stepping into the pyjamas Hannibal had provided once he was dry. His hands still had a faint tremor so he clenched his fists in a bid to make it less noticeable. The fabric of the pyjamas was soft against his skin, and smelt of Hannibal. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savouring the fragrance. Will wanted nothing more than to run back to Hannibal, but now that he was dressed, an unexpected bout of anxiety swarmed over him. He knew it was ridiculous, knew that Hannibal would be there, and would welcome him, but Will couldn't quite send the message to his feet to just _move_.

“Will?”

Hannibal's voice, coloured only mildly with concern, though still enough for Will to notice, floated through the door. When Will didn't answer there came a soft knock.

“Will? Are you alright in there?”

“Yeah,” he tried to say, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, I'm coming out.”

He moved before he could second guess himself, willing this irritating moment of irrational fear away. The door opened, letting the cloud of steam escape. As it did so, it framed Hannibal, the light coming from the bulb behind him mixing with the steam and casting him in an eerie glow. Will could see the comparisons to a fallen angel then, stronger than he ever had before.

 _God_ , he was beautiful.

He blinked, and the image wavered and dissipated with the steam. Now it was just Hannibal standing before him. Hannibal with his tired eyes and untrimmed hair, now changed into his own pyjamas. He was still just as beautiful, and _oh_ how Will ached.

“Shall we?” Hannibal said, stepping back and holding his arm out in guidance. It was only then that Will noticed just how nervous Hannibal really was. Not enough to change his behaviour, of course – Will would be surprised if there was anything he could do that would do that – but still enough for Will to pick up on when he really _looked._ He stepped out of the bathroom, feeling both better, and more apprehensive than he had been before. Together they walked in silence to the bedroom. As expected, the bed was big; enormous, in fact. It was a far bigger bed than Will could recall ever seeing in his life. Just as silently as they had walked in, they gravitated to their own sides of the bed. It didn't go unnoticed by Will that they did so as naturally as if they had been doing it for years. He highly doubted it escaped Hannibal's notice, either.

Together they slid under the sheets, the gap between them feeling more of a yawning chasm than a relatively small expanse of unclaimed bed. Will lay back, his head on the pillow, and allowed his eyes to drift shut. He was tired; more tired than he had been in a long time, but he knew he wasn't likely to be getting any sleep. Still, he felt less awkward having his eyes closed. He could hear, and feel, Hannibal getting himself comfortable, followed by the soft click of the light switch. The room was plunged into darkness.

“Goodnight, Will.”

Hannibal's voice was soft, quiet. _Intimate._ Will revelled in it, and of their own accord his eyes drifted open again.

“Goodnight, Hannibal.”

He wasn't sure how long they lay there. He knew Hannibal wasn't asleep, any more than he was. They were both too aware of each other's proximity to be able to switch off and relax like that. It felt like hours, but could just have easily been minutes that tried to stretch themselves out into an eternity each. Will couldn't take it any longer.

“Hannibal?” he asked, unsure what exactly he was doing, only that he had to do _something._

“Yes?” came the speedy reply.

Will didn't know what to say, and so he didn't. Instead he wriggled his way across the space, leaving his pillow behind and resting on Hannibal's shoulder instead. Hesitantly he draped one arm across the broad expanse of Hannibal's chest, then forced himself to relax.

“Is this okay?” he whispered. It took a moment, but the tension in the muscles beneath him bled away, and an arm came down, slowly at first then with more confidence, and wrapped around Will's body. There was another second of hesitation, and then a soft kiss brushed the top of Will's head.

“Yes,” was the murmured reply. “Yes, it is.”

Will smiled, and closed his eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

If someone had told Hannibal the morning before that he would be waking up with Will Graham in his arms, he would likely have thought them insane, even through his endless optimism. Or a liar with particularly bad aim, given his tested patience when it came to trying to find Will. And yet, here he was, in exactly that position. Of finding him, he had had no doubt, but to lie here with Will in his bed...

They were still pressed together when he woke, arms holding tightly to torsos, knees and ankles pressed against each other's. Hannibal had never had trouble getting out of bed in the mornings; he was far too self disciplined for that, but right now he couldn't bring himself to so much as wriggle a toe. Will's head was still tucked in under his, though he had shifted from lying on Hannibal's shoulder to instead rest beside it, the both of them on their sides facing each other. Will had a heat to him – a healthy heat, a _strong_ heat that Hannibal found himself craving more and more of with every second that passed. And still he couldn't bring himself to move at all. He breathed deeply, savouring the scent of his shampoo in Will's hair.

In his arms, Will began to stir. Hannibal relaxed his grip on him as he turned and stretched, watching each and every movement of Will's, each change of expression that travelled across his face, with a sort of disbelieving wonder. He couldn't help but wonder if his waking up process was at least partially influenced by his years of having dogs around him; the way he stretched each limb out, and tipped his head back, exposing his neck. It was endearing, and intriguing.

“Hey,” Will said, interrupting Hannibal's reverie. He focussed on Will's face, drinking in the sight of those sleepy, smiling eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Better than I have in years.”

“Yeah, I guess having a bed like this has got to be a relief after sleeping on that little cot thing Alana had you on. It looked even worse than the bed they gave me in there.”

“The bed certainly played its part,” Hannibal said, a soft smile settling in. Will's curls were flopped over his forehead, another endearing thing about him. His smile spread from his eyes, his lips curling up in response to Hannibal's own smile. It hit him then, just how powerfully and irrevocably in love with Will he was. There was no coming back from this, even if he wanted to. He'd always known it, of course, but he'd never allowed himself to _feel_ it in this way, had always kept it shuttered in another compartment of his mind where he could admire it from afar, but never have it rule his actions. Its influence had seeped through anyway, despite his best efforts, but that was all it was back then – influence. Now it was free, and there would be no caging it again. Before him, Will frowned.

“Are you okay?” he asked, mild concern and confusion colouring his tone. “You suddenly look a little bit horrified. Which is not a word I thought I'd ever use to describe a look on _your_ face.”

Hannibal hurriedly smoothed his features, blinking his way back into a smile.

“This is new for me. I admit I had thought about it, but it never seemed to be something that would ever be within the bounds of reality. Not after that night in the kitchen, especially.”

A shadow flitted across Will's face, then was gone almost before it arrived. For the first time that he could recall, Hannibal found himself actively wanting to protect Will from pain, instead of enjoying it. It was odd, though not entirely unexpected. He'd long since learnt that when it came to Will Graham, all bets were off.

“I'd thought about it, too,” said Will, and it had the air of illicit confession. It made Hannibal's heart thump a little more forcefully. “The more people tried to convince me you were dead, the more I refused to believe it. And then I let myself feel what I'd always refused to allow myself. And it just went from there.”

“You've spent so long denying yourself. How does it feel, now that you've finally begun to embrace your own desires?”

Will laughed, a tiny, shy thing. It brought a bigger smile to Hannibal's face.

“It feels like I can tell you what I've always told you, and this time actually get you to listen: don't psychoanalyse me. I am definitely not your patient any more, _Hannibal._ ”

The deliberate use of his first name, rather than his title, sent a shiver down Hannibal's spine, and he had to close his eyes before he was overwhelmed. When he opened them again it was to find Will watching him, more than just a little amused.

“Indeed you are not, Will.”

He took the opportunity to just look at Will, then. His eyes roamed over Will's face, taking in every line, every smooth plan and gentle curve, committing them all to memory. No matter what happened in the future, he knew that this was a time he would revisit over and over again. Will, in his arms. Content, happy, and pleased. The image he created rested alongside the one he had lovingly protected during the long years he had spent under Alana's care, a wholly different yet no less appealing one. Will's face, battered and bruised, but somehow still happy, when they had found each other under La Primavera.

“I don't know about you,” said Will, stretching once more, “but yesterday has left me starving. I barely ate at all, and all of this has been a little overwhelming.”

“Then please, wait here and I will cook for you.”

Will raised an eyebrow.

“Breakfast in bed? I might get used to that.”

“I would be honoured if you did.”

A faint flush ran up Will's neck, but he smiled.

“Get going, then. The faster you're there, the faster you're back.”

“As you wish,” Hannibal replied with a smirk, sliding out from under the covers. There was a pang of separation as he left the bedroom, but he wanted nothing more than to take care of Will, in whatever way he needed. If that meant feeding him, then that was both of them happy.

He rummaged through the cupboards, digging out the meagre supplies he and Chiyoh had collected before all of this with Will had happened. Thankfully there were eggs, bacon and bread, and so he got to work. It wasn't ideal, but once they were settled somewhere more permanent he would create such feasts for Will as no one had ever seen.

He smiled as he worked, imagining a future in which he had the privilege of doing this every day, a future in which he and Will lived together, woke together, worked together and, yes, hunted together. He wished he had been there to see what Will had created while they were separated. It must have been a truly glorious sight to behold, Will working and painting himself in vivid hues of red.

Smiling, Hannibal plated the breakfasts and carried them into the bedroom. Will was still wrapped up under the blankets, though he'd shifted to his side of the bed where he lay propped up against the pillows. Sunlight came through a crack in the curtains, casting his face half in golden light, half in shadow. Hannibal had to pause for a moment, sucking in a breath to recentre himself. Will was a vision, there was no doubt of that.

“Breakfast is served. Unfortunately this hotel did not see fit to provide trays, so you'll need to be careful not to spill any on the sheets.”

Will smiled up at him and held his hands out to take the plate and cutlery. The way he looked at Hannibal, the way his face was so soft and open, made Hannibal's chest swell. It was an odd feeling, one that although he recognised it for what it was, was still one he had no real experience with himself. He wondered if Will could comprehend just how much he had changed Hannibal.

He kept all of that to himself as he crossed to his own side of the bed, sliding back under the sheets beside Will. They ate quickly, and in silence. Will finished his first, smacking his lips as he did.

“Coffee?” he asked when Hannibal had finished, taking his plate from him.

“Please,” he answered, taking a moment to admire the sight of Will wearing his pyjamas. They were both very similar in height, but Will was built to a slightly smaller scale, the effect being that Hannibal's clothes were just slightly baggier on him than they were on Hannibal. It really was very appealing.

He relaxed back against the pillows, listening to the sounds of Will rinsing the dishes, and operating the coffee machine. He remembered waking up yesterday, full of hope and optimism, but he had never once thought that only one day later they would be _here_. If he didn't know better he would have sworn that this was all some fever dream, that he was dead, _dying_ , and that his brain was just giving him what he wanted.

But he wasn't dying, and this wasn't a fever dream. It was all real, so fantastically, unbelievably _real_.

“What are you smiling at?”

Hannibal blinked back to his surroundings. Will wore an amused expression as he held out the coffee cup to Hannibal.

“I was just thinking about how different today is from yesterday.”

Will's face softened.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Will didn't return to his side of the bed when Hannibal took the cup, instead choosing to perch on the side, resting ever so slightly against Hannibal's legs.

“We're going to have to discuss some things, I guess,” he said between sips of coffee. “We can't exactly hide out in this room forever.”

“I don't see why not.”

Will looked at him sidelong at that, though he didn't protest. They both knew they would have to move on, and soon, but while Will could be cruellest creature on the planet, he wasn't so cruel in this moment as to deny Hannibal a moment of wistful imagination.

“I still can't believe you're actually here,” said Will in a rare moment of deliberate, honest vulnerability. “I wasn't going to give up until I found you, but I still can't believe you're actually here.”

Hannibal reached out to rest his fingers on Will's. It wasn't a hand hold, not really, but it felt like it could be.

“I'm here. And so are you. It is as it was meant to be.”

Will's hand turned beneath Hannibal's, and he moved to pull back, fearing he had overstepped his bounds. Will's fingers twisted and clung, pulling Hannibal's hand back to where it was. Their palms pressed together, their fingers resting gently on each other's pulse points. Hannibal didn't try to hide the way his heart skipped when Will touched him, the way his breath caught in his chest. He just stared at the place their skin met.

“It is. This was all meant to be. All of it. Even the parts I hated are what have brought us here. There are parts I never want to live through again. There are parts I never want to even _think_ about again. But if we were to go back and change any of it, we wouldn't be _here_.”

His voice was quiet, the words and the thoughts those words brought with them obviously a struggle for Will, but Hannibal listened, and he understood.

“Will, I -”

“If you're going to apologise, or say you wish you could take it back, or start talking about teacups again – don't. Just don't. It's done. I know who you are, _what_ you are. I know, and I accept you exactly as you are. You don't need to change. Not for me.”

“Even still, I regret causing you pain. I regret that hurting you hurt me just as badly. I didn't know that it would. I won't apologise, nor claim things would be done any differently if we did it again. But I _do_ regret it.”

Will let out a bitter laugh, and tightened his fingers around Hannibal's hand.

“C'mon,” he said, and there was true forgiveness in his eyes when he looked at Hannibal. “We need to get ready, and decide where to go from here.”

Hannibal nodded, and neither of them seemed to notice that they didn't let go of their grip on the other's hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter ended up with quite a sleepy, wrapped up quality. I hope you enjoyed it anyway ♥


	3. Chapter 3

Will sat himself on the arm of the couch, listening to the sounds of Hannibal in the shower. Will had already had his, and was now dressed in a set of Hannibal's clothing. He wondered if Hannibal was as painfully aware of their separate showers as he was. He wondered if it was as close to the forefront of his mind as it was to Will's own that they had spent the night together, and done nothing more than hold one another. He was sure it was.

There was very little for him to do while he waited. He bounced his knee, fidgeted with his fingers, and thought about how very right and comfortable it had felt to be in Hannibal's arms. Despite everything – hell, these days maybe even _because_ of everything – it seemed impossible for him to imagine a life that didn't involve Hannibal. Especially now that he'd found him.

The door to the bathroom opened, Hannibal emerging in a cloud of steam and Will was reminded of the way he had appeared to him the night before; a dark and monstrous angel who belonged, completely and utterly, to Will.

Hannibal took a few steps towards him before stopping. Once upon a time the focussed way in which he looked at Will would have made Will uncomfortable, but now he basked in it. It was intoxicating, and addictive. He drank in the way Hannibal's eyes roamed over his body, delighted in the way Hannibal's nostril's flared slightly.

“Y'know, I'm starting to think you might enjoy me wearing your clothes.”

“I admit it has a certain appeal,” Hannibal allowed, the hungry expression snapping back under control. “And I couldn't leave you to wear your clothes from yesterday.”

“I would have been fine, but I appreciate having something clean to wear.”

He didn't say that there was something comforting about being enveloped in something of Hannibal's, nor did he say he felt safer already when all he had to do was close his eyes and breathe in to be reminded of how near to him Hannibal was. He was certain Hannibal would soon notice the way Will couldn't refrain from touching the soft material of his shirt or running his hands along the legs of his pants, as though by touching them he could, by extension, touch Hannibal.

“Shall we go and collect your things? I thought it would make more sense for us to stay in one place. And I also thought that this place would be more comfortable than wherever it is you chose to stay.”

“You think I'd chose a hovel to stay at?” Will teased, enjoying the way Hannibal's lips tightened for a split second before widening in the smallest of smiles.

“Not at all. But this is where we spent our first hours after so long parted. Despite myself, I feel... _sentimental_ about this room.”

He didn't look at Will as he spoke. It put Will in mind of the way he used to be, avoiding eye contact like that. It was strange, both to be on the receiving end, and to see it coming from Hannibal of all people. Not that he didn't know how Hannibal felt. And that was the thing, wasn't it? He'd spent so long convincing himself that Hannibal couldn't feel anything at all, when he knew, deep down where he could pretend not to acknowledge it, that the complete opposite was true. Hannibal felt. He felt things just fine. It was his ability to switch trains of thought, to compartmentalise, to ignore and acknowledge his feelings as he saw fit in a way that no one Will had ever come across before had been able to do, that made him different.

“You're right,” he said softly, watching Hannibal with wonder. “We'll get my stuff now, bring it back. We can decide what we want to do once it's here.”

Hannibal looked at him then, smiling. Will stood, and together they left the room.

/--/

It didn't take long to collect Will's things and check out of the hotel.

“Do you think anyone will be tracking you?” Hannibal asked as they walked down the street.

“Chiyoh was right,” began Will, “about Alana and Jack being involved in my 'rescue'. Though she doesn't know that Jack washed his hands of me. He thinks he freed me from you, and now wants nothing more to do with me.”

“And Alana?”

His voice was calm, detached, but Will could sense the underlying curiosity. He did it well, but not so well that Will wasn't aware of it.

“She and Margot are probably tracking my passport as we speak,” he conceded. “Would you believe they decided to call me David Johnson?”

Hannibal's nose wrinkled.

“What an appalling lack of imagination.”

“In their defence, I think they were trying to go for something so boring that anyone who might try to find me would overlook it.”

It went without saying that the anyone in question was currently striding along beside him.

“They would surely have succeeded in that endeavour. Though they did fail to take into account your own resources and drives.”

“That they did,” replied Will cheerfully.

“Even still, I think it best that this hotel be the end of the trail for David Johnson. We can get you a new identity. I have access to both the money and the means, so it shouldn't be too difficult.”

It didn't surprise Will in the slightest that that would be the case for Hannibal. He was never anything if not prepared. He wouldn't have been caught at all, if Will hadn't been able to manipulate him into turning himself in. A faint thread of guilt spun through him at the thought, but he pushed it away. It was in the past, and they had moved through that now. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what if. What if that night in Baltimore had gone to plan. What if they'd left then, or left together after Muskrat Farm. What if, what if, what if.

“Will?”

Will looked up, only now noticing that he'd stopped walking.

“Sorry, got lost in thought.”

“Nothing too troubling, I hope?”

Will looked at him, at the genuine concern in his eyes, and smiled.

“No. No, I think it's all fine.”

/--/

“I never stopped thinking about you.”

Will and Hannibal were putting away the supplies they had picked up while out getting his clothes and other belongings. Fresh fruit and vegetables, meat, herbs and spices. It almost felt like they were moving into the place, instead of just using it as a temporary resting spot for the next couple of days while they worked out their next move. He wasn't entirely sure where the confession came from, or why he voiced it before even thinking about it. He supposed it must have had something to do with the relaxed, comfortable environment they seemed to be building between and around them. He was aware of Hannibal stopping what he was doing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see him holding something green and leafy towards the open fridge, but not actually putting it in. Will did his best to ignore it, to forget he'd ever said anything, and continued emptying bags. Eventually Hannibal moved again, depositing the vegetables into the fridge and slowly closing it.

“The memory of your face was sometimes all I had, in there.”

Hannibal's quiet admission went almost unheard by Will.

Almost.

But hear it he did. His hands trembled slightly before he could pull himself back under some semblance of control.

“I had my drawings, my books, my fun with Alana and Frederick. But all of those were nothing, compared to you.”

Will couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath that followed, and he nearly dropped the bag of rice he was holding. He looked at Hannibal, then, the need to see his face too much to fight against. He was looking directly at Will. His face was blank, but his eyes...his eyes were like fire.

“I'm not going to apologise,” said Will, feeling the need to say something, to make them even again. “But you're not the only one who has regrets.”

Hannibal smiled at that, the fire in his eyes not dying down at all. Its full heat was still directed at Will, and he suddenly recognised it for what it was. It wasn't anger at all, not even close. Will had to look away, more than a little terrified to see his own need reflected back at him.

“And your wife. Did she know you were thinking of someone else?”

Hannibal's tone was so light, so innocent, that one could almost be fooled into thinking he meant nothing by it. Will was far, _far_ beyond being fooled by such things. He knew _exactly_ what Hannibal was digging around for.

“No,” was the curt answer. He had little doubt that one day he would tell Hannibal everything, but right now he still had to earn the right to learn more about that part of his life. He may have forgiven him, but that didn't mean he would throw caution to the wind.

“I'm sorry.”

Now it was Will's turn to stop in his tracks. If there were two words he hadn't expected to not just hear from Hannibal, but to hear with complete and total sincerity, it was ' _I'm sorry_ '. Not in this context. He sighed, looking at the floor.

“No, don't be,” he said. “It's only natural for you to ask. I wouldn't expect you to suddenly stop being curious about everything just because we're here now.”

Hannibal didn't say anything in response, merely nodded and continued his task. Will thought maybe he should feel awkward after that conversation, but years of telling Hannibal things he had never intended to made this seem...not easy, as such, but certainly less discomforting than once it might have. He laughed. Hannibal turned to him again, an eyebrow lifted in question.

“I was just thinking that maybe you weren't such a bad psychiatrist after all.”

“I'll have you know I was in fact very good at what I did.”

He didn't sound offended, not quite, but the potential was certainly there. Will took pity on him.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing for Hannibal to come closer. He obliged without question, stepping into Will's arms.

“You certainly got the results you wanted,” Will whispered with a smile, wrapping his arms around Hannibal's waist and resting his head against his broad chest once again. It was comfortable, being here like this. Once upon a time he may have tried to fight it, but not any more. Now he knew exactly where he was meant to be.

“This isn't what I had pictured when we first met,” said Hannibal, his chin scraping against the side of Will's head. “Though I can't say I'm disappointed.”

“Neither am I.”

Will pulled back, looking into Hannibal's face. He often wondered what went on behind those eyes. Hannibal always had been the one person Will had had the most trouble reading. Not that that meant it was impossible for him to do so; he just had to try harder.

“We should get the rest of this away,” Will said, releasing Hannibal from his grip and stepping back. A brief flash of disappointment crossed Hannibal's eyes, a disappointment Will himself felt, but he mirrored the backwards step Will had taken.

The rest of the day was spent in much the same way as the previous one. They finished putting away their small stash of groceries. Will threw his things into the bedroom, and Hannibal tidied them away, much to Will's amusement. He could have gotten changed, once they were back. There was no real reason for him to remain in Hannibal's clothes, not now that he had his own back, other than the fact he enjoyed wearing them, almost as much as he enjoyed the way _Hannibal_ enjoyed it.

They made lunch once they were done tidying up and stood in the kitchen eating it. Meals here were so different to the way they had always enjoyed them in Hannibal's dining room in Baltimore. Save the dessert that Tobias Budge had ended up leaving for Will, they'd always had relatively formal meals. Here it had been a dinner that could more accurately have been described as finger food the night before, breakfast in bed that morning, and now sandwiches eaten at the counter. They were very large, gourmet sandwiches, to be sure, but sandwiches all the same.

Once lunch was finished however, there was a shift. It was slight, but noticeable to both of them.

“Where do we even go from here?” asked Will. It was such a large, carefully avoided topic, and possibly one that could have been left another day or two, but if the last few months had left him with anything it was a need for certainty, for stability.

“We must, unfortunately, leave Palermo.”

Will agreed. There was sentiment here, but it was too dangerous. It may have been some time since authorities were actively looking for Hannibal, and he may not have been _quite_ as prolific as he had been in Florence, but there was always the risk that someone would still recognise him. The chaos he'd sown when last he was here would doubtless have grown some deep roots. They would be none too pleased to see him once more.

“Do you have any plans about where to go?”

“I had thought we might discuss that together.”

Will had to admit, he was a little stunned. Hannibal was an almost pathological planner, even if he didn't do it all consciously. He was very quick to adapt his plans if need be, but he always _had_ them. For him to have deliberately waited for Will was one hell of an indication of how much he really wanted Will there. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and looked at Hannibal, mulling over an idea.

“Why don't we just wait until we're ready to leave, and take the first flight, or train or whatever catches our interest that day?”

“That's terribly romantic sounding, Will.”

There was a twinkle in Hannibal's eye, offsetting the otherwise sober expression on his face. Will couldn't resist the urge to step forward until he was well and truly into Hannibal's personal space.

“You did work hard on bringing out _all_ of my hidden sides,” he said. He deliberately pitched his voice low, huskier than normal. Hannibal didn't disappoint, raising one hand to cup Will's cheek, his fingers curling back through Will's hair and behind his ear. Will lifted his own hands and settled them on Hannibal's waist, resting against the jut of his hips.

“And if the first plane to leave takes us to Rome, and then on to the smallest, most frozen town Russia has to offer?” asked Hannibal, the twinkle in his eyes fading to something softer, warmer.

“Then I'll buy something warm and start working on my Russian.”

“You truly don't care?”

Will reached up for the hand still cupping his cheek and wrapped his own fingers around it, pulling it down. He carefully pressed a soft kiss to the fingers that curled in response around his own, drinking in the way Hannibal seemingly subconsciously bit at his lower lip.

“It's the who, not the where.”

Hannibal breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Every time I think you can't surprise me any more, you do something that does,” he whispered. Will smiled and released Hannibal, turning to tidy their lunch mess away.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It had been three days since he had found Will, three nights spent in each other's arms, and Hannibal was finding it increasingly difficult to think of anything other than Will's lips. Every time he spoke, Hannibal would watch the shapes they formed around the words, watch the way his tongue would occasionally flick into view before disappearing again. Every time they ate, he was captivated by the way those full, red lips would draw food inside his mouth, and then he had to look away when his tongue darted out to lick them. Even in bed he couldn't resist watching, watching Will sleep, those lips parted ever so slightly.

This level of distraction was new to Hannibal; new, and delicious. He held no illusions that Will might have yet to notice his levels of distraction; he'd had to repeat himself on more than one occasion, when Hannibal had been too lost in staring and imagining to have taken in what Will had said. What he was certain of was Will not knowing exactly _what_ it was that he was so sidetracked by.

It did seem odd, and yet also entirely in keeping with their traditional dynamics, that they hadn't kissed. Not like that, any way. There had been those chaste kissed to the fingers, or the top of the head, but the longer they went without giving in to this need between them, the more Hannibal found himself entirely incapable of thinking about anything else. It even affected his sleep. The smell of Will so near him made it all the worse. Kissing Will had crossed his mind more than once over the years, but there had always been a certain amount of distance, allowing himself to indulge and then compartmentalise. That was no longer a luxury he had.

“Hannibal?”

He blinked, returning to their conversation.

“You know, eventually you're going to have to tell me what's so interesting in your head that it keeps interrupting the conversations you're having with the person right in front of you.”

“My apologies, Will. You're right, I haven't been myself lately.”

“Yeah, the bullshit we've been through will do that to a person. I guess I'm just a little surprised to see it happen to _you,_ though.”

Hannibal smiled in response. Will didn't sound irritated, not by a long shot. He sounded _understanding_. He wondered if he would still be as understanding, if he knew what it was. Hannibal knew, more surely than he'd ever known anything before, that Will most certainly returned his feelings. There was no possible way it could be otherwise. What he didn't know was whether he had any intention of acting on them. Regardless, Will had always been able to get into that hidden part of him that craved acceptance, understanding, in a way no one ever had. Nor would anyone ever be able to again. Hannibal knew that just as certainly.

He yawned, a distraction entirely unfeigned. It was late, and his lack of sleep, while not causing any notable problems, was nevertheless making itself known.

“C'mere,” said Will, gesturing for Hannibal to come closer. They were sitting side by side on the couch, something that was fast becoming a pre-bedtime habit for the pair of them. It was nice, a calm way to unwind from the emotions of the day, emotions that often threatened to overwhelm Hannibal, regardless of how aware of them Will may or may not have been.

He slid closer, sighing softly when Will spun around and pushed gently on his shoulders, manoeuvring him until they lay together, Hannibal between Will's legs with his back pressed to Will's front. Another sigh was released when Will began rubbing at his shoulders, gently at first, then with greater and greater pressure.

“Jesus, when was the last time you had a shoulder rub?” Will sounded almost personally offended that Hannibal's muscles would dare to be a little on the tight side. “You're wound up far too tight.”

Hannibal suppressed a laugh.

“Shoulder rubs, or indeed massage of any kind, were not high on Alana Bloom's list of priorities for me.”

Will _didn't_ suppress his laugh, letting out a loud guffaw.

“No, I imagine she feared for her orderlies fingers.”

“I had no intention of biting anyone's fingers off.”

“No, just eating Frederick's lips.”

“In my defence, they were sent to me already prepared. It was too difficult to resist.”

“Prepared? They were bitten off and stuffed in an envelope! I still can't figure out what you were thinking.”

“As far as lips go, they weren't on the top of my list for new things to try. Still, beggars can't be choosers.”

Will grew silent at that, and Hannibal marvelled at the way the conversation had come around to something that, once again, jolted his mind back onto its favourite track.

“If you could,” began Will, and Hannibal could hear how carefully he was choosing and sorting his words, “would you choose which new things you would try? As far as lips go.”

The shoulder rub had stopped, now, Will's hands lying motionless atop them.

“I do believe you know the answer to that.”

Hannibal could feel Will's heart thumping through his chest and against his back. His own answered in kind.

“I guess I do,” he replied, having imperceptibly moved closer so that now his mouth was beside Hannibal's ear, his breath tickling Hannibal's hair. His hands slid down the front of Hannibal's shoulders, down to rest lightly against his chest. A shiver ran through Hannibal at the intimacy of their positioning. He twisted his head a little, feeling Will's stubble rub briefly against his own. It wasn't a sensation he was unfamiliar with, in and of itself, but it coming from _Will_...that made all the difference.

“And you?” he murmured. The moment was stretching him out thin, and he felt as though he may snap any second. “Is it something you've given any thought to?”

“It's crossed my mind,” said Will, his hands sliding lower, his arms pulling Hannibal in closer and closer with every breath. Hannibal's heart was thumping wildly now, and he could barely maintain his frayed threads of self control enough to refrain from spinning around and pinning Will beneath him. Trying to corral the body that was giving away his every desire was well beyond him. He let his arms, previously held close to his own body, fall over Will's legs, running his fingers slowly along Will's shins.

“And that journey through your mind. Where does it lead you?”

Hannibal was doing a remarkable job, given the circumstances, of keeping his voice even. There was a huskiness, yes, but with how close he was to the edge, he thought he was doing very well. He took a step closer to that edge when Will spoke again, his lips grazing Hannibal's ear.

“I think you know the answer to that just as well as I know where _your_ thoughts have taken _you.”_

Hannibal turned his head, just slightly, just enough to have his cheek brushing against Will's. Time had stopped for him, now, and that thought sent a brief flare of irrational panic through him. What if the shattered teacup was finally coming back together? What if this was as far as he and Will got, and now they were destined to live their lives in reverse, never getting to enjoy their new found comfort and openness with each other, until eventually they parted ways forever?

He pushed the feeling down, locking it away in a dark part of his mind palace until he could deal with it later. For now he wanted to enjoy every last moment of his time with Will.

“We find ourselves at a crossroads,” he whispered, feeling the way the skin of his face brushed against Will's as he spoke.

“The metaphor of a crossroads carries the implication of choice,” murmured Will. He nuzzled at Hannibal as he spoke, gently pushing at his face, at his shoulders, until Hannibal's head had turned just enough. Will's lips grazed Hannibal's, not a kiss just yet, but filled with all the promise in the world, and Hannibal couldn't hold himself back any longer. He chased Will's lips, finally joining them together in the softest of kisses. Will's arms were still holding him close, fingers tightening gently in Hannibal's shirt, Hannibal's own hands still clinging to Will's legs. They each twisted their necks, trying to adjust the angle while Will still had his chest pressed to Hannibal's back. It was awkward, and perfect in how close they were, in how Hannibal could feel Will touching him all over. In all his imaginings, he had never been able to conjure the feeling of total bliss that now enveloped him. The kiss was so soft, so gentle, so the antithesis of every other intimate moment between them. There was no blood, no pain, only rapturous joy and elation.

Will's tongue darted out and Hannibal parted his lips, savouring this new taste. Will let out the smallest of frustrated groans and began pushing in earnest at Hannibal's shoulders even as he attempted to deepen the kiss further, and Hannibal took the hint. He twisted in Will's arms, never once breaking the kiss, until they were facing each other. Together they slid Will down until he was directly below Hannibal, who lay his full length along Will, and the kiss moved from gentle and loving to frantic. Hands flew over bodies, attempting to touch as much as possible, and when Will's hips jutted up Hannibal was powerless to prevent the answering rutting from his own body. It was only then that Hannibal was able to tear himself away, lifting his head slightly to look down at a panting Will Graham, face flushed and eyes fever-bright.

“Don't tell me you want to stop now,” Will said with a half smile, his hips still rolling and rubbing slowly against Hannibal.

“Not at all,” Hannibal admitted. “I'm just afraid that if we get started now, there won't be any stopping.”

Below him, Will closed his eyes and shivered.

“So what you're saying,” he drawled, fingers tightening on Hannibal's shoulders, “is we can continue on here but maybe not go quite as far as you'd like, or we can stay here and...?”

“I'm sure there's plenty we can do. You tell me what you need, and I will give it to you gladly.”

“Christ, Hannibal. How can you just say things like that.”

Hannibal dropped his head to kiss his way along Will's neck.

“You know how I feel about you,” he said between kisses. He didn't examine too closely the reason he could only say _that_ particular sentence while not looking at Will. It wasn't as though either of them were unaware of the elephant in the room, even if Will may not have known the exact depth of those feelings.

“Stop.”

Hannibal stilled, lifting himself up to look questioningly at Will.

“Just...” Will trailed off, his eyes flicking away to look over Hannibal's shoulder for a second, before returning to his face, then darting away again. He took a breath, and Hannibal waited.

“Just...just don't let me go, okay?”

Will's voice was so soft, so shy and uncertain. He didn't look back at Hannibal after he spoke, his eyes dropping instead to look somewhere in the space between them.

“Never,” answered Hannibal as he ducked his head down to nuzzle against Will's face, gently turning him back towards himself. Their lips grazed once more, but this time it was Will who chased and kissed. Things grew more relaxed, after that; kisses growing long and languid, hands exploring everything in reach from faces to waists. Hannibal wasn't certain how long they remained like that, but when he lifted his head once more he decided it must have been a while, given how swollen and reddened Will's lips were. He couldn't help the smile that broke free, seeing how relaxed and open Will was and knowing, _knowing_ , that it was because of him.

“I can't believe we waited this long,” said Will, reaching up to trace his fingers over Hannibal's face. It was intoxicating, all of it.

“I wouldn't change any of it.”

“You wouldn't? Not even to make it happen earlier?”

“No,” said Hannibal softly. “You needed to be in the right place for this to work. You're here now, and that's what makes this right.”

Something light, something happy flashed across Will's face and he pulled Hannibal down for one last kiss, before pushing him up and off him. For the first time since he was a child, Hannibal had to resist the urge to whine in disappointment.

“Come on,” Will said, holding out a hand in a repeat of their first night together. “Let's go to bed.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Will awoke the next morning, faintly surprised they'd fallen asleep at all. Beside him Hannibal slept, face relaxed, breathing deep and even. Will couldn't stop the wide smile that developed as he looked down at the man beside him, with his hair far messier than Will had ever seen, his lips slightly parted, and the faintest of what he would be sure to deny were snores. He was just so remarkably _human_ , and if Will had had any doubts about how he felt about Hannibal, they would have been well and truly banished by this sight before him.

Somehow, and counter to everything movies and music had ever taught Will, they were both still in their pyjamas. They had stayed up most of the night, kissing and caressing and had most certainly had hands exploring the broad planes beneath their shirts, yet nothing had been removed. It was as though the two of them had to progress their relationship in carefully explored, infinitely savoured steps.

He couldn't say how long, exactly, he spent just lying there, watching Hannibal sleep. He couldn't resist reaching out and gently running his hands through Hannibal's hair, stopping only if Hannibal began to stir. To call him beautiful was an understatement, Will was fast coming to realise. It was still something of a shock that Hannibal was showing him this side of himself; Will strongly doubted anyone else had ever seen _quite_ this image. Hannibal had often said that Will had always seen him, understood him in ways that no one had before, but he didn't see Hannibal so well that he wasn't capable of surprising him.

Will gave Hannibal's hair one last brush through with his fingers, then slid carefully out of bed. Seeing Hannibal sleep so soundly was partly endearing, and partly disconcerting. It let Will know exactly how much power Hannibal was willingly handing to him. He could kill him now, and no one would ever know how easy it was. Only it wouldn't be easy, not any more. Will couldn't kill Hannibal, he knew that. But the power to do so being given to him was intoxicating, and terrifying.

Quietly he slipped from the room, ducking into the bathroom for a quick shower. When he emerged, slightly less gritty eyed and sweat coated (even if the reasons for being sweat coated were infinitely more enjoyable than they traditionally had been), Hannibal still slept. Will scurried past the bedroom door, before he could tempt himself into climbing back into bed and covering Hannibal with kisses until he woke. Instead he made his way into the kitchen, pulling out the leftover croissants from yesterday. He pondered them for a moment, and then got to work.

/--/

“What are you making?”

Will whipped around, narrowing his eyes and throwing an instructing finger in Hannibal's general direction.

“Get back into bed,” he ordered, lifting a spatula up in threat. Not even the altogether appealing sight of Hannibal in rumpled pyjamas, his hair messed from more than just sleep, was enough to distract him from his mission.

“I'm serious. Get out. I'm nearly done here, and then I'll tell you all about it.”

Hannibal closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.

“Did I ever tell you that I smelled Freddie Lounds on you? That's how I knew she was alive.”

He stood there, his eyes still closed, until it dawned on Will what he was saying.

“Don't you _dare_ try and work out what I'm cooking just by using your freaky super powers.”

“A sense of smell is hardly a super power, Will -”

He was cut off by a well aimed towel thrown at his head. The look of mild offence on his face as the towel fell to the floor had Will doubled over in laughter almost before he knew it, and the fussy little sniff from Hannibal didn't help matters.

“I'm sorry,” Will managed to squeak out, trying valiantly to get himself back under control, “but that look on your face -”

He broke out into laughter again, tears beginning to form as he clutched at his stomach. Hannibal gave another sniff.

“As much as I am loath to interrupt your mirth, whatever you're cooking will need removing from the heat before it burns.”

“Shit.”

Will spun around, carefully removing all the food from the heat, making sure to use his body to shield it from Hannibal's sight.

“Go to bed, Hannibal. I wanted this to be a surprise.”

There was no answer from Hannibal, no sound at all. Will turned to find him staring back at him, a look of quiet wonder and affection on his face.

“What?” Will asked.

“Every moment with you is a surprise,” Hannibal said softly, his eyes never leaving Will's. It was almost too much for Will to bear, and he took the few steps over to where Hannibal stood.

“C'mere,” he said, taking the towel Hannibal had picked up. He looped it around the back of Hannibal's neck, an end in each hand, and pulled him closer, kissing him long, slow and deep. It grew more frantic before long, their bodies grinding slowly together. The pyjamas, while a flimsy barrier, suddenly seemed far too much.

“Wait for me in bed,” he said when he finally pulled away, voice husky. They stood together for a few moments longer, foreheads resting together, both men trying to bring their breathing under control. Eventually Hannibal nodded, running his hands over Will's hips and waist, then stepped back.

“Don't take too long,” he said, his voice just as strained as Will's was.

“I won't.”

Hannibal turned and retreated back to the bedroom. Will had to rest a hand against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to regather the tattered remains of his self-control. It was too tempting to just abandon the breakfast he'd been making and chase after Hannibal, but he'd been determined to provide for Hannibal as much as he provided for Will. He stood up straight, took one last deep breath, and opened his eyes.

It didn't take long to plate the breakfast up; he wasn't as interested in presentation as Hannibal was, but he still put in enough effort to have it looking relatively tidy on the plates. He carried them carefully into the bedroom, where Hannibal, once again, took his breath away.

He was propped up on the pillows, his hair tidied somewhat, though still falling loosely over his forehead. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, one arm behind his head while the other lay at his side. Will could only stand and stare at him, until one eye cracked open to look back.

“Shall I come and fetch the plates?” Hannibal asked, amusement colouring his words.

“No,” said Will, shaking himself out of his daze. “No, I'm bringing them. Sit up.”

Hannibal complied without pause, sitting up straight and reaching for the plate when Will held it out for him. Will settled in on top of the blankets next to him, watching Hannibal's face as he inhaled the scents coming from the food.

“Tell me what it is,” he said.

“You probably already know, given how much you've been sniffing at it.”

Hannibal turned to look at him then, his attention fixed solely on Will.

“I want to hear you tell me. I want to hear everything you might have to say about anything.”

Will snorted, suddenly bashful.

“It's breakfast, Hannibal, not one of the great works of art.”

“To me, anything coming from you is greater than any of the existing works of art.”

He spoke with total sincerity, leaving Will in no doubt that he meant it completely. There was no teasing at all in what he said. Will tried and failed to fight the flush he could feel climbing his neck and spreading across his cheeks.

“It's croissant French toast,” he managed to force out, trying his best to return to some sort of equilibrium. Having anyone speak to him like that would have left him feeling slightly off balance; coming from Hannibal knocked him to his knees entirely. “Cinnamon, vanilla and orange. With fresh strawberries and a blackberry sauce.”

He watched as Hannibal took a bite, closing his eyes as he tasted Will's cooking. There was something intimidating about watching Hannibal eat food he had made, no matter how confident he was in his own abilities. This was something he'd made variations on more times than he could count, and he _knew_ it was good, but even still...

“This is divine, Will.”

Will was entirely too aware of the way his body sagged in relief at Hannibal's words, but he tried to ignore it and just eat his own.

“The flavours are perfectly balanced, complementing one another perfectly and no one of them crowding out any of the others.”

“Thanks,” Will said gruffly, shovelling a forkful of French toast into his mouth in a bid to hide his flustered pleasure. The rest of their breakfast was eaten in relative silence, Hannibal taking the hint and refraining from showering Will in too many compliments. Before long they were finished and Hannibal was taking the plate from Will, leaving briefly to deposit the dirty dishes. The entire time they were eating, and even more so for the time he was gone, Will had to fight the growing arousal deep in his belly, squirming occasionally and having to take deep breaths to settle himself. He was hyper-aware of each and every movement Hannibal made, of each small sound of pleasure that came from his mouth as he ate. He even had to force himself not to watch the way the fork would enter Hannibal's mouth, only to slide back out between red, wet lips.

Frustration mounting, he pressed his hands to his eyes, willing his body to respond. It was no good; the longer he kept his eyes closed, the more his traitorous brain supplied images that it had yet to witness for itself. It stitched together what he had seen: long sinewy arms, a broad, furred chest tapering down to sharp hips and strong legs. He wanted it all.

“Will?”

Will looked up, startled, to find Hannibal standing right beside him, half leaning over in concern.

“Are you alright?”

It was too much for Will to cope with and when Hannibal reached out for him, doubtless to check for fever, Will grabbed. He pulled Hannibal down onto the bed by his wrist, only half noticing but still amused by the way Hannibal's eyes flew open in surprise before he landed on top of him. Will shifted a little, letting Hannibal fall between his legs while his arms propped him up, forming a barrier on either side of Will's head. He still looked surprised, but pleasantly so, and the way his eyes darkened when he licked his lips was not lost on Will.

“Hello, Will,” he all but growled.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.”

There was an unmistakable twitch from Hannibal's cock when Will spoke. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“You like that, do you? Did you fantasise about fucking me over your desk during our sessions, imagine me begging Doctor Lecter for more?”

Hannibal squeezed his eyes closed, his restraint clearly more than just beginning to falter. Will wondered how long it would take to provoke him into action.

“I probably would have let you, you know,” he continued, not at all sure what had gotten into him but knowing he couldn't stop. “Even when I thought I hated you, I still would have let you.”

“It's not about you _letting_ me.” Hannibal did growl that time, his hips grinding down as he spoke. Will bit his lip as the friction sent sparks through his body.

“You want me to want it?”

Hannibal nodded, lowering himself minutely with each thrust of his hips, the thin fabric of their pyjama pants doing nothing to stop the heat from their bodies. Will let out a groan, his hands coming up to clutch at Hannibal's shoulders.

“I want it. _Fuck,_ I want it.”

Hannibal ducked his head almost before Will had finished speaking, a ferocious clash of tongues and lips that left Will convinced at least one of them must be bleeding, and scrabbling to remove Hannibal's top.

“Jesus,” he said in frustration, pulling his mouth away from Hannibal's only for as long as he needed to. “Get this off, _now_.”

Hannibal complied, sitting back on his heels as he tore at the top and hauled it over his head. Will reached up, taking his chance to splay his fingers and run his palms up Hannibal's stomach and over his chest, raking through his chest hair. Hannibal tipped his head back, his chest expanding and contracting with each panted breath he took. He gripped Will's wrists, not to control where Will went but to follow, shuddering slightly when Will tweaked his nipples, gently at first then again with increased pressure. It was _divine_ , watching Hannibal react to each tiny and not so tiny touch of Will's hands. Slowly, carefully, he reached further and further up until his hands were wrapped around Hannibal's throat. He left them there loosely for a moment, his mind entirely blank, but a shiver ran through Hannibal, his adam's apple moving beneath Will's fingers as he swallowed in obvious arousal, and Will was spurred into action.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he breathed, tightening his fingers in slow increments. Hannibal tipped his head back, baring his throat, his hands still loosely holding Will's wrists. It wasn't lost on Will that Hannibal was quite literally putting his life in Will's hands. He squeezed harder, listening intently to Hannibal's breathing growing huskier. The thought that he could kill Hannibal right now, and that Hannibal would let him, had him harder than he could ever recall being in his life. It was beyond painful and _god_ he wanted more of it.

He loosened his grip on Hannibal's throat, letting his hands slid around to the back of his neck instead. He tugged gently until Hannibal shifted to lie on top of him again. It was almost embarrassing, the way Will's hips automatically began rutting, his legs lifting almost of their own accord to wrap around Hannibal's waist. It was more than worth it though, when Hannibal let out an almost pleading moan and began grinding back against him, his head falling to Will's shoulder where he began licking and sucking almost desperately.

The strange thing, Will thought later, was the way the room faded away to nothing, leaving only the two of them suspended in the middle of oblivion, lost entirely to sensation. Hannibal began shoving at his top, and together they removed it, flinging it away were it, too, was lost to the void. Their pants followed soon after to allow skin to slide against skin, their hot, hard lengths pressed together in excruciating bliss. Will was incapable of stopping his hands from roaming over every inch of Hannibal's skin, scarcely able to believe that this was actually happening, that they had finally found each other. Their entire relationship had been an elaborate courtship, he knew that now, and while it had involved the worst pain he'd ever experienced, he knew that it was also going to give him more pleasure, more bliss and happiness than he could possibly comprehend.

“Fuck me,” Will growled, moving his hands to Hannibal's hair and _pulling._ Hannibal stiffened for a moment before thrusting against Will particularly vigorously, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh where Will's neck met his shoulder. “I'm serious,” he said, his legs clenching more tightly around Hannibal's waist. “Fuck me, I know you want to.”

“Will...” Hannibal's voice trailed off into a deep moan. They clung to each other, bodies still rocking together, until Hannibal lifted himself up onto his elbows. He looked for a long time at Will, before finding whatever it was he was looking for. He nodded once, then gently extricated himself from the grip of Will's legs. Will had to try not whine as Hannibal crawled over to his side of the bed, though the sight of his ass, hard cock bouncing gently between the gap in his legs, helped sooth some of the need. He rustled through his draw, returning immediately with a small bottle and pack of condoms in hand. Will looked from them, to Hannibal's face and back again, his face breaking out into a wide smile.

“I did say I prefer to be prepared,” he said with a smirk. Will shivered. The look on Hannibal's face left his stomach feeling like he was falling from a great height. He wasn't sure the analogy was entirely inappropriate. Hannibal crawled his way back, settling himself between Will's still parted thighs to leave a long, lingering kiss on his lips. The bottle and package lay, abandoned for the time being, in the centre of the bed, still well within easy reach. Hannibal shifted mid-kiss, pushing his weight to one side, and for a second Will thought he was leaving again. That thought fled his mind when Hannibal took his cock in hand, his grip feather light, and began slowly, so painfully slowly, running his hand up and down. Will arched his back, his fingers tightening on Hannibal's back hard enough to bruise. In vain he tried to chase more, more pressure, more speed, but Hannibal held back, enjoying this torture too much to stop so quickly.

“Jesus, fuck, _Hannibal_ ,” he hissed, a litany of curses and praise raining unnoticed from his lips. Each murmuring from him brought an every tightening grip from Hannibal, until Will was lost to pleasure. He didn't even notice the way Hannibal snaked his way down his body, not until his hand left, only to be replaced by the warm, wet enveloping that was his mouth. He swallowed Will down without warning, then just as quickly released him. Will was powerless to stop the groans that Hannibal pulled from him as easily as he'd ever pulled music from a harpsichord. Hannibal, for his part, seemed to be enjoying this even more than Will. Will could only look down as Hannibal stared back up at him, a predatory gleam in his eye. He had seemed so restrained, to the point of almost seeming submissive, right up until the point Will had told him to fuck him. That had flicked a switch, and now he took control, splaying his hands across Will's hips and licking a stripe up his cock, never once breaking the intense eye contact he had established. Will had to throw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, for fear that looking at Hannibal alone would be enough to have him coming. Instead he tangled his fingers in Hannibal's hair, giving himself over to sensation when Hannibal swallowed him down again.

It didn't take long before he was shifting once more, taking Will's balls first in his hands, then sucking them gently into his mouth. Will arched up again, Hannibal only slowly releasing them, then nibbling small, sucking kisses on his sack. Will knew his mouth was open, knew there were sounds coming from him that he was helpless to control, but he had no idea what those sounds were. He didn't even care; he just wanted more of Hannibal's mouth. But again Hannibal shifted, dipping lower still, his tongue now a point that massaged firmly at his perineum, lapping closer and closer to Will's hole. Will was beyond any attempt at rational thought now, his broken pleas for “more, please Hannibal, _more_ ,” doing their job to drive Hannibal even further. The sporadic laps became more constant, more forceful, until it was the sole focus of Hannibal's attention, his tongue prodding then pulling away so he could kiss and suck, slowly relaxing and opening Will up.

When he pulled away for good, Will could have cried, letting out a soft chant of “no no nonono” when Hannibal sat up. Will had no idea how long Hannibal had been there, so lost in a fog of blissful craving had he been, but it was a long time, he knew that much. Hannibal let out a quiet shush, soothing Will with a stroking hand on his thigh as he reached over for the bottle of lube. He let go only when Will's trembling had stopped and Will let out a laugh, unable to believe how overwhelmed he was already. Quickly Hannibal coated the fingers of one hand, throwing the bottle back on the bed. This time he returned to kiss Will, his lube-coated fingers dropping to circle Will's entrance as he did. Will clung to Hannibal, their kisses now almost violent in their intensity. He found himself pushing back against Hannibal's fingers, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside. Finally, _finally_ , Hannibal obliged, circling once more before slowly, softly, pushing his index finger in. He deepened the kiss as he did so, distracting Will from any discomfort, but there was none. He pushed his hips down, helping Hannibal's finger breach the ring of muscle. Deeper he ground down, Hannibal panting in response, his eyes bright and needful as he pulled away to look at Will.

“You wanton, voracious creature,” he whispered.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hannibal. If you can still speak like that you're not putting enough effort into fucking me.”

Hannibal's eyes narrowed.

“Very well,” he said, voice calm but full of restrained heat. His hand began to move, then, pumping his finger in and out before adding another, and then another as Will relaxed around each one. He pumped harder, Will writhing and pushing and demanding more, ever more.

“Hannibal, I want to feel you,” he panted. It was all the warning Will had, his own words, before Hannibal pulled his fingers free, reaching over for the condoms and lube. Will sat up, grabbing the condom box from Hannibal's hands.

“Let me.”

Hannibal released the box wordlessly, his expression both surprised and aroused. Will pulled a condom out, tearing the packet open with surprisingly steady hands.

“Come here,” he said, getting for the first time a good look at Hannibal's cock. It made his mouth water and he reached out for it, more eager than ever to feel that thick length fill him up. He couldn't take his eyes away as he rolled the condom down, taking his time to feel its weight in his hands. Without even thinking about it he reached between his legs, scooping up some of the combined lube and saliva that dripped down his ass and wrapped that hand around Hannibal's length, gripping it tight and tugging slowly. The groan it tore from Hannibal's throat nearly broke Will then and there. It was a sound of such aroused breaking, so primal and raw, and Will had to cling to him with his free hand. He worked at him for a few minutes more, never increasing his speed, until Hannibal wrapped his hand around Will's, stopping him.

“You'll have no chance at getting what you've asked for if you keep this up,” he said, his voice a low throaty whisper. Will let go, as much as he wanted to do anything but. His body was humming, thrumming, _needing_ Hannibal inside him. He let Hannibal push him slowly back down on the bed where he waited in anticipation. Hannibal reached for the lube one more time, coating his cock then drizzling more on his fingers. In a repeat of his earlier movements he leaned down to kiss Will, pushing his fingers inside one last time as he did so. Will groaned, relishing the sting. Hannibal crooked his fingers and Will jolted when his prostate was grazed unexpectedly.

“Jesus fuck,” he ground out, seeing stars. “Do that again.”

Hannibal smirked down at him and complied without a word, twisting his fingers again and again, but only ever grazing the spot so lightly. Hannibal leaned forward and removed his fingers, trailing them over Will's cock as he leaned close to his ear.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he said, his voice smoky and full of subtle suggestion. Hearing Hannibal speak like that, fussy, put together, always in control Hannibal parroting back his own words in _that_ tone of voice nearly overwhelmed Will. His cock leapt, tapping Hannibal's stomach and Hannibal let out a laugh.

“Have you _ever_ used the word fuck before in your entire life? It shouldn't sound that natural coming from you,” he said, accusation in his voice.

“Fuck?” Hannibal seemed to roll the word in his mouth like a fine wine. “It's not one I use often, true, but it most certainly has its uses.”

“It shouldn't be that hot.”

Will dropped his head back on the pillow, the aftershocks of Hannibal's fingers exacerbated by his unexpected language. He was painfully aware of Hannibal moving, knowing what was coming and simultaneously craving it and fearing it. He couldn't even say _why_ he was fearing it, only that he _was_.

“Will.”

Hannibal's voice helped him recentre himself. He looked at him, Hannibal's hand coming up to gently cup his face. They didn't say another word, didn't break eye contact for even a moment as Hannibal lined himself up and slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, pushed inside. He grunted as he bottomed out, panting and eyes closed in an obvious bid to regain some sort of control. Will gazed up at his face in wonder. This was a perfect moment of stillness and he reached up to hold Hannibal's face in both of his hands. Hannibal's eyes fluttered open, his own look of wonder mirrored back at Will. Will tugged gently at Hannibal and he leaned down to kiss Will, a soft brush of the lips before deepening into something warm and soft and deep. Will tightened his fingers on Hannibal, shifting them back to grab handfuls of hair, wrapping strands around his fingers and _tugging_. The movement drew another grunt from Hannibal, seeming to pull him from his reverie. Slowly, as everything had always been done so _slowly_ with Hannibal, he began moving. They clung to one another, each loath to lose so much as an inch of contact. Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal's waist, his hips shifting in harmony with Hannibal's.

Will could feel the two of them floating away again, the outside world melting into nothingness until there was never, and could never, be anything other than just them. Together they writhed. If he made any noise Will didn't hear it, so lost was he in the sight and feel of Hannibal atop him, beneath him, filling him and surrounding him. And the _sounds_ he made, oh god, the sheer wanton _need_ in his voice as he growled and panted and moaned, the whispered and nonsensical words that flowed in multiple languages from his lips between kisses and sucks and bites. Will could hardly stand it and eventually he snapped. He dug his fingers hard into Hannibal's skin, clinging hard as he drove them faster, ever faster, surrendering to all the sensation Hannibal could overwhelm him with, and then he tipped over the edge. Thick white come spurted between them, sticky-slippy against their skin. His teeth sunk into Hannibal's shoulder as he rode out the waves of pleasure surging through him. It didn't take long before Hannibal's movements became erratic and then he was locking up, a long, low groan torn from his throat. He collapsed on top of Will with a shudder, the both of the sweat soaked, a fine tremor shared between them.

Hannibal reached between them, holding the condom in place as he gingerly pulled out of Will's body, before removing it and tying it off. Will cocked an eyebrow as he watched, breathless and amused by the fullness of the condom.

“Been a while, huh?”

“It has,” was Hannibal's reply, his voice shaky yet sated as they each lay back down.

“That was...” Will trailed off, unsure exactly how to describe that experience, other than transcendent. He was damned if he was going to start speaking like Hannibal after one round of (admittedly very, _very_ good) sex.

“It was.”

“I guess six years of pent up sexual tension has to have a good pay off.”

“It does.”

Will looked over at Hannibal, surprised by his lack of words. Hannibal had so rarely been lost for words over any of the time Will had known him. Hell, he'd had plenty to say at his own trial, to say nothing of his verboseness once he was imprisoned. Now, it seemed, he had nothing. Will watched Hannibal carefully as he lay very still beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Will wondered for a moment if perhaps he was having regrets, until realisation dawned. This was a Hannibal Lecter overwhelmed for perhaps the first time in his life. Will's expression softened the longer he watched him, until he couldn't resist running his fingers over Hannibal's skin. His eyes fluttered shut as Will touched him, a small smile curling his lips upwards. Will chose not to say anything about the tiny tear drop that slid from the corner of Hannibal's eye. This, he suspected, was a sight that few got to see without it being specifically choreographed. And Will knew, beyond any doubt, that this was Hannibal at his most open and vulnerable.

Carefully he leaned over, kissing the tear from Hannibal's skin. He followed the path until he kissed the corner of his eye, before Hannibal turned, chasing Will's lips with his own. Will was happy to acquiesce, leaning up on one elbow in a bid to reach a better angle. They broke apart, eyes opening to take each other in. Will smiled.

“I don't know about you, but I could use a wash.”

“I'll go and fetch us a cloth. I would be very happy to bathe you here.”

Will thought it strange that it would be _that_ of all things that sent not just butterflies through his stomach, but an entire electrical storm. Hannibal looked at him in question, his eyes still shiny though no longer in danger of spilling over.

“I was thinking,” he began carefully, “since we're both in need of cleaning, we could just shower together. You can still indulge your bathing fetish in there, if you want.”

Hannibal smiled, snaking an arm out and around Will's waist, pulling him close. It seemed that the Hannibal Will was more familiar with was making his return, if the smug glint in his eyes was anything to go by.

“Since I have your permission, I intend to do just that,” he purred, and Will closed his eyes as a shiver ran through him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here is the end of this story! Thank you, everyone who has taken the time to read it ♥ I'll probably have little updates to this universe from time to time, but for the overall story is completed.


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